


Lukewarm

by ajibag



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, F/M, LGBTQ president math nerd and drama student Richie Tozier, M/M, Multi, Richie doing illegal things like Richie does, Sexual Content, aren't those the best kind?, slow slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-04 05:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14013099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajibag/pseuds/ajibag
Summary: It's the 90's - a time of gay rights reforms and Nokia phones.Richie needs money so he tapes his lectures and sells them (very illegally).And would you just guess who happened to need a tape?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm treating this as a learning experience. AO3 is full of great writers and observant readers. If you have any advice/ constructive criticism/ anything to help improve my writing it's greatly appreciated.
> 
> Updates might be slow but I tend not to abandon things halfway.
> 
> Other than that, I'll try not to make this too self-indulgent and I hope you enjoy.

Eddie was under again.

And so this is what happened when Bill came back: he stepped into their shared dorm room and three very distinct _never’s_ occurred to him. Eddie _never_ shut the blinds all the way down, Eddie _never_ forgot to make his bed and he _never_ left clothes on the floor. It wasn’t enough for Bill to get _very_ worried but it was enough. He stepped into the room cautiously. A break-in wasn’t out of the equation.

There was movement in the corner of his vision and Bill almost gave himself a whiplash turning to look. A foot poked out from underneath the “Nightmare before Christmas” duvet of Eddie’s bed.

“Eddie?”

“Hi Bill,” came a muffled response. Bill visibly relaxed his shoulders and walked to the edge of the bed, prying the duvet off. Eddie popped out like an animated character with his hair all mussed up and cheeks red.

“Are you sick?” Asked Bill, observing his friend.

Eddie sighed and put the comforter back over his head, “No.”

“Then why are you in bed? I thought you had lectures on Tuesdays,” Bill asked, confused. You could add a fourth _never_ , he supposed: Eddie never skipped.

“Yes Bill, I have lectures on Tuesdays,” came a response. Eddie’s tone was unnecessarily harsh. He shot out of bed and marched into the bathroom slamming the door. Bill lifted his eyebrows but knew better than to go after him.

For Eddie, it was a breaking point. He’d been laying in bed for three days, not being able to leave. Everything just crept up on him and the weight of that everything was like a ton of bricks that had him pinned down.

He felt guilty for skipping lectures. Yes, it was a pussy thing to do: everyone goes through tough times, he’s a socially privileged white male, yada yada yada. All that self-invalidation of feelings did nothing to help, only the contrary.

Bill came back and accidentally blew air into the fire.

When Eddie finally came out of hiding, his friend was unpacking. He’d spent the weekend back in Derry visiting some friends and his parents. Tried talking Eddie into it too to which the smaller boy gave Bill a look and turned back to his homework, end of conversation.

Eddie watched for a silent moment: how carefully Bill folded his clothes and separated them into two neat piles. He sometimes wished he could like Bill that little bit more. He was exactly the kind of boy Eddie imagined falling in love with: smart and clean and soft. They got along well and it could’ve been easy (oh how Eddie missed easy) but nothing couldn’t be wished into something try as he may.

He rubbed a hand over his face, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I just haven’t been feeling so well. Emotionally.” He felt like a nerd saying that.

Bill nodded and smiled a little, acknowledging the apology. They never fought for long anyway. Bill was soft where Eddie was hard and they got along like peas in a pod, “Did something happen?”

Eddie plopped down on his bed and sprawled out like a starfish, “Not really?” Pause. “I don’t know. I just can’t bring myself to leave the bed in the morning. I wake up, I think about all the things I need to do and I can’t bring myself to do them. And now I have to catch up on the lectures I missed too and it’s just…” he didn’t finish the sentence.

Bill understood, to an extent. Eddie’s always been the kind of person who burnt out easily. A bit like a Jenga: you can make the tower taller but at the expense of stability. That was Eddie in a nutshell. He could push himself quite far but it always had a price.

“You should take it easy, Eddie,” Bill said, still folding shirts. “No one’s gonna expel you for skipping a couple lectures. You can relax.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Eddie. They’ve had this conversation before: ‘Bill, I’m sad’ ‘why?’ ‘I don’t know’ ‘it’s okay’ ‘but I feel bad about feeling sad for no reason’ ‘you deserve to be happy and you can relax cause I know you’ll do great even if you don’t labour everyday’. Eddie appreciated it, he did. But he didn’t believe it. So he rather avoided those conversations now.

Bill looked Eddie’s way and puckered his lips slightly, the way he always did when he was thinking, “If you’re worried about the lectures I can hook you up with this guy I know. He tapes lectures and sells them. Might be helpful?”

“That sounds distinctly illegal but sure,” Eddie said flatly, staring at the ceiling. “How’s Derry, still a shit-hole?”

Bill’s eyes crinkled at the edges, “Pretty much. But I met up with Mike which was nice. He started working at the library.”

“Oh yeah?” Asked Eddie, not really surprised, just needing something to say.

 

In the evening Bill managed to drag Eddie out arguing that it was health-endangering to stay in one room too long. He made up a fake illness and freaked Eddie out of bed. They had dinner-breakfast in a local diner and after happiness came in the form of six pancakes drizzled with maple syrup Eddie felt somewhat better.

“Thanks Bill,” he said around a black straw that was dipped in a tall glass of strawberry milkshake.

“For what?” Asked Bill who had opted for a mug of hot chocolate instead.

Eddie shrugged. “For being a good friend?”

Bill smiled while Eddie shifted his eyes around the diner. It was dimly lit inside. So much so that the neon pink sign reflected on the wet sidewalk outside could've been described as a source of light. The red leather of their bench seat would creak every time either of them moved. Eddie hated that sound. He looked back at Bill who was staying quiet.

“I met someone.”

“What?” Eddie whisper shouted. “In Derry?”

Bill looked at him like he was crazy. “What? No, of course not. Here.”

“What? When? What’s his name? Why didn’t you tell me?” Eddie was offended about not being informed earlier but excitement overrode it.

“I don’t know, I didn’t want to believe it I guess,” said Bill, giddy and shy. “His name is Stan,” he said, straight-up blushing. Eddie felt weird seeing Bill that way. 

“Well where did you meet him and when?” Interrogation mode: on.

“At a party? Remember a couple weeks ago, I invited you too but”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” interrupted Eddie. “So what’s he like?”

“He… has a wicked sharp sense of humour and he’s very smart and handsome,” Bill was staring off into the distance.

Eddie listened to Bill’s uncharacteristically inarticulate descriptions and thought. He was happy for Bill. He was also pushing down a bit of jealousy. Eddie’s never had anyone. Being one half of Derry’s gay population wasn’t easy. He always got unwanted crushes on straight guys which ended up bruising his ego badly. Bill was a different story. Would go out of town sometimes, meet guys. Nothing serious but he was more realistic about the whole thing. And more brave, Bill has always been brave. Eddie? He wasn’t ready to face the reality of what being gay meant. He didn’t want to believe that stolen moments with a stranger in a club was all there was to it.

“How did you know he was gay?” Asked Eddie suddenly. It occurred to him that they met in a regular party, not a gay club.

“Oh,” said Bill, frowning like that question had never crossed his mind. “I don’t know, I just knew I guess. ”

“How can you just know something like that?” Eddie was tired of hearing that answer.

They spent the rest of the night talking about Stan and despite some light envy, Eddie was glad to see Bill happy. He just didn't want a sad ending to a happy story. He didn't want to think about how maybe  _he_ wasn't destined to meet anyone. 

 

Next day he was right back where he started - in his bed. This time, however, Eddie had a textbook in there with him. He was holding it more than reading it, yes. But… one small step for Eddie, one giant leap for Eddie’s education.

His Nokia 6110 buzzed on the nightstand. Eddie picked it up, abandoning the textbook. He only got a mobile phone recently and receiving text messages was exciting.

Unknown: Bill said u needed a lecture recording?

Oh, right. Eddie wasn’t actually going to text the guy, he just wanted to get Bill off his back. But if he did, he might as well drop out altogether. After all, this tape was probably his only chance at not failing his math course this term.

Eddie: How much do you charge?

Unknown: 25 bucks a tape

Eddie whistled through his teeth. This asshole must have been making a fortune. It was actually pretty resourceful, this thing he came up with. Exploiting the basic student necessity to cover lectures without attending them. Smart. Apart from being illegal. Either way, Eddie didn’t have much of a choice. 25 bucks or a fail in math.

Eddie: I need the last three lectures of calculus class, do you have them?

They arranged to meet up the following day in a nearby park. Eddie specifically asked it to be in the morning because a commitment was the only thing able to get him out of the bed before 2pm these days.

So here he was, sitting on a damp bench and freezing his ass off in the dog park. Now that he thought about it, Eddie didn’t know what its actual name was. Everyone just called it the dog park. It was tiny and there wasn’t much to look at this time of day: a few leafless trees, an old man walking his dog and a grandiose fountain which looked spectacularly out of place.

The day was dreary but calm. Although grey clouds were floating in the sky, they were thin and seemed higher above than usual. Looking at them Eddie had the impression of being in a very spacious room with an unusually high grey ceiling. The ground, on the other hand, was a thick red layer of fallen leaves and Eddie put his foot down hoping to hear that satisfying crunch but it was too wet and all that came out was a pathetic ‘pleurgh’.

“Autumn is my favourite season,” came a voice from behind Eddie’s bench. He turned around and saw a tall figure and a blur of dark curly hair. The lanky stranger plopped down on the bench next to Eddie and kicked up a bunch of leaves with a battered converse. He was wearing glasses so thick that they made his eyes look big and left the rest of his face sort of obscured. Between that and his loud and tasteless Hawaiian shirt, the guy was a walking stop light.

Eddie felt himself getting flustered. _City: hard-meeting-new-people. Population: Eddie_. He intended to make a neutral expression but it ended up being more of a frown.

“Mine too,” he said finally.

The guy looked at him, unconvinced. “Really? You look like anywhere else is where you’d rather be.”

Eddie got a little offended by the quick (and accurate) judge of his spirits but bit his tongue, “Yeah, well, it hasn’t got anything to do with the time of year. I’m Eddie by the way.”

“Richie,” said the guy extending a hand. The feeling of his big warm palm enveloping Eddie's own sent a little thrill down Eddie’s spine. The handshake felt like it lasted a beat too long and Eddie retrieved his hand in a haste, shooting out anything to mask the awkwardness he was feeling:

“Is that short for Richard? That name really doesn’t suit you,” he said. It was true, if a little too honest - Richie/ Richard had long hair and was wearing bracelets. He had something at least a little unorthodox about him. _Makes sense, what with the whole filming lectures and selling them illegally thing_ , Eddie thought to himself. What he associated with the name “Richard” was this half-wit he knew back in middle school who thought geeks were the margins of modern society.

Richie/ Richard laughed and said “I agree completely but I’ve had twenty years to warm up to it, you will too” and smiled a big goofy grin.

His teeth weren’t perfectly straight but the smile suited him very well. _If a stranger had said to me what I just said to him, I would’ve told them to go check if the size of their own dick suits them_ , thought Eddie.

“So do you have the tapes?” He asked. Now he wanted to go home.

“Straight to business huh Eds,” said Richie.

“It’s Eddie,” he corrected automatically.

Richie looked him up and down and smirked. “Are you one of those nitpickers that can’t stand having a nickname Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Eddie Spaghetti?” he scrunched up his nose. “Did you make that up when you were twelve? And for you information, Eddie _is_ a nickname.” he felt like he was overstepping now but Eddie Spaghetti? _Honestly_.

“So what do you study Spaghetti?” Asked Richie, unfazed by the protest.

“What do you think?” Eddie asked back, determined to be difficult.

Richie smiled and looked him straight in the face for a moment, squinting with thought. “Well, you sure would make a great teacher,” he said finally as Eddie opened his mouth to tell him he was wrong. “BUT,” interrupted Richie, before the smaller boy got the chance to add any input, “A little stickler like you probably does something like medicine.”

Lucky guess. “Close. Biomedicine,” said Eddie.

Richie nodded like it made all the sense in the world. “And what made you want to slave away for a degree in biomedicine?” Asked Richie. “Was it the money, benefit to humankind, a fetish for pain?” He asked, teasing.

“None of those things,” retorted Eddie, “It’s cause I wanted to blow stuff up and synthesise drugs”. He was being a sarcastic little shit but this guy was way too comfortable.

Richie let out a laugh that began with a surprised “HA” and bellowed loudly in the empty park. A couple innocent pigeons that were hanging around the bench shot straight into the sky and the old man with the dog turned back to look at them. Eddie cringed. He really wasn’t big on attracting attention and he also wasn’t trying to humour the guy.

“What do you study then?” Asked Eddie to shut him up. He was also curious. The guy was taking Eddie’s math classes but he looked more like an art student. There was also that whole selling lectures thing which was straight up business.

“What do you think?” Richie asked, parroting. He leant his elbow on the back of the bench and raked his fingers through his hair. Eddie noticed his hands back when they greeted each other. They were slightly reddened from the chilly morning and very beautiful. Long nimble fingers with prominent knuckles and a vein running from wrist to forearm. An artist’s hands, musician’s hands.

Eddie shrugged. Too many options. “Parkour?”

Richie started spluttering again. Eddie felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

“You read my mind kid. If there was a degree for parkour, I would have it no doubt,” he answered.

Eddie didn’t like the way Richie said “kid”. It sounded condescending. Yes, he wasn’t a skyscraper like this guy and he had a young looking face, no need to point it out. He lifted one eyebrow as if to say, _well what then_?

“I study drama.”

“Drama?” Frowned Eddie. “But you take math classes.”

“I do.”

“So… is it like a double degree?”

“Kind of? The math scholarship pays the fees so I do both.”

Eddie nodded, secretly impressed. Brains _and_ lack of stage fright? Some people really have it all.

Richie pulled a messenger bag across his knees and took out three thick cassettes.

“Her’ ya go, mam,” he said in a purposefully awful southern drawl, handing them to Eddie, ”Pleasur’ to be of service to a beautiful creatur’ such as yurself mam,” and tipped an imaginary hat in Eddie’s direction. It was ridiculous.

“I’m hoping your math skills are better than your acting ones.”

“Yes, they are,” he said, adding “that will be seventy-five dollars and zero cents.”

Eddie huffed and handed over the money. It’s not that he had any financial worries - his mom supported him for the most part, even though he asked her not to. But handing over 75 bucks for three tapes felt like a robbery in clear daylight.

Richie took the money and tipped his “hat” again. The guy was such an idiot and so relaxed that Eddie felt himself reciprocating eventually. They slipped into a conversation - Richie blabbed nonsense and Eddie mostly listened. It was easy.

“So the concept is that each song in the album is about a different zodiac sign and it’s spoken by this weird dude who sounds pretty stoned and,” Eddie interrupted Richie there.

“Wait, spoken? So it’s not even a real song?” He asked. They had both shifted into more comfortable positions on the bench - Eddie was hugging his knees and fully facing Richie while the other boy sat with his long legs bent and crossed like a pretzel.

“No, it’s a real song, but no one sings in it,” answered Richie, “It’s very psychedelic and shit, I guess you have to be pretty stoned to get it,” he admitted, thoughtful. “I’d show you but I only have it on vinyl.”

 _Next time,_  hung in the air but neither said it. The clouds shifted for a moment and Eddie watched a ray of sunshine travel from a naked tree, to the fountain, make its way across the ground and momentarily shower them both in warm yellow light as Richie continued spouting on about music. The sunshine made Richie squint and brought out a light spray of freckles across the bridge of his nose that Eddie hadn’t noticed before. Richie looked at his watch. Then it was dark again.

“Shit! I have a rehearsal,” he exclaimed.

“What time?” Asked Eddie. They’d been sitting there for at least over an hour. He had wanted to say something about the time before but didn’t.

“Fifteen minutes ago,” said Richie, sheepish, already up and slinging the messenger bag across his shoulder, “But I’ll see you around? Maybe you and Bill can come over or something.”

“Yeah,” said Eddie, kind of quiet, “Sounds cool.”

They said their goodbyes and Richie waved frantically at Eddie once he reached the exit, which made Eddie laugh, then disappeared.

Eddie sat in the same spot for a couple more minutes, then stood up and walked for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie Tozier believed one thing: God helps those who help themselves.

So he did. Richie was a lot of things but a survivor first. When he was twelve and Henry Bowers asked to copy in an exam, he let him. When his mom started drinking, he got a job. And when he knew it was time to leave, he left.  

Taping lectures was just one of his survival strategies. The epiphany came after an excruciating 10 hour shift. There was no way he was gonna wake up for the following day’s 9am. He had just gotten this video camera: a bulky thing that weighed like a ton of bricks. What if he asked someone to film for him? What if _he_ filmed for someone? 

Unlike most of his ideas, this one was a raging success: after a month, he made enough money to pay his rent and after two he quit work altogether. This left him with plenty of free time to start an LGBTQ society and listen to shitty vinyl. The sun was shining in Richieville. 

It was shining… In fact, Richie was suspended in a warm and twirly yellow mass of nothingness. There was a pleasant swinging motion beneath him as if he was laying on a hammock on a sunny day. Then the front door slammed and he fell off the swing, waking with a start. A figure strolled inside the living room and towards his limp form on the couch.

“See any cute guys?” Asked Beverly jingling her keys. Her and Richie shared the loft and she made it her daily duty to ask him that.

Richie wiped the drool off his cheek, “Good morning Richie. Did you sleep well?”

Beverly stalked towards the fridge as he cracked his aching neck. “Is it morning already? God I fell asleep on the couch again.”

Beverly worked nights. More often than not she came home to this scene: Richie stretched out on the couch with his mouth open and glasses askew, a book in his lap. 

“What were you doing last night?” She asked. 

“Having sex with your mother.” The joke wasn’t funny years ago and it definitely didn’t start being funny now but Richie seized every opportunity loyally. “Which reminds me. I did see a cute guy. His name is Michael J. Fox.”

“Ew Rich, you watched _Ghostbusters_ again?”

“What? No. Jesus Bev, that’s Bill Murray.” Richie shook his head at the ignorance, “ _Back to the Future,_ not _Ghostbusters_.”

“Well what’s so great about the Fox dude?” Beverly asked pouring herself some cereal. “Is he the perfect combination of cute and sexy?”

“He’s the perfect combination of boyfriend-material-for-Richie-Tozier.” 

“And what would that be? Short, brown-eyed and mean? You’re so predictable.”

Richie blew her a raspberry. 

“Whatever, I don’t watch”

“What time is it?” He interrupted Beverly. 

“Like nine.”

“Like how close to nine?”

“What? I don’t know Richie, go check for yourself. Like ten to nine.”

“Shit!” He rushed towards the bathroom.

H _ere comes the ritual_. 

Richie stormed around the loft for about five minutes with only one leg in his jeans. He ate a banana with his left hand while combing his hair with the other. Then he forgot about the banana and tried brushing his teeth while chewing. 

Beverly didn’t bother to ask anymore. She just watched with entertainment while feasting on her cereal.

“Don’t forget your keys!” She yelled after Richie as his socked feet slid towards the door. He skidded to a halt, ran back to the bowl where they usually kept their keys and shot her finger guns.

“By the way, are you seriously doing that standup show next week?” 

“Yeah, why? Did you think I was gonna chicken out? ‘Cause Richie Tozier is no chicken shit,“ he said kissing his bicep. 

Beverly rolled her eyes, “Ben asked. He has to sign you up if you’re seriously doing it.”

Richie had one foot out the door already, “Tell him I haven’t said no to a dare in my life!”

The door slammed behind him. 

“You should rethink your life choices then,” mumbled Beverly.

*******

 

Eddie hated bars. It was everything - from the tabletops that never seemed to be clean to the sweaty crowd of people which swallowed whole anyone who was under 5’8. The only reason for his weekly visits were the standup shows.

He was an unlikely member of the comedy club. Not because Eddie thought _he_ was funny, no. More so because every performer needed an audience and Eddie _loved_ being the audience. Although playing the jokie wasn’t his thing, being _attracted_ to one was. He was a sucker for wit and it was just one of those things that you were either born with or you weren’t. Like raising an eyebrow. Eddie could google “how to be funny” all he wanted but he still wouldn’t be nor could he raise his damn eyebrow. 

So that day, like most Saturdays, he was bouncing on a chair, waiting for the show to start. Ben - another regular of the comedy club - was sitting on Eddie’s right with his girlfriend Beverly. Eddie’d never met her before but she seemed nice for a pretty girl. 

“I wonder who’s performing,” he said. 

“Yours truly,” someone answered. Richie pulled out the empty chair on Eddie’s left. “This seat taken?”

Eddie’s pulse started thwacking loudly in his ears. _Boom_. _Boom_. _Boom_. The pressure behind his eardrums drowned out all other sounds. He shook his head no, too surprised to say anything else. 

“You’re performing?” He recovered.

“Yes. Speaking of that… Bartender! Can I get a shot?”

“I was starting to think you bailed,” laughed Beverly. “Did you even prepare anything?”

Richie flashed her his right palm which had indecipherable words scribbled on it with a ball-point pen, “I don’t think this is gonna go well but I’m also confident that this is not gonna go well because I’m a confident person.”

Beverly chuckled as Eddie looked between them. 

“We’re roommates Spaghetti,” explained Richie, noticing the look. “How do _you_ know each other?”

“We only met today. ‘Cause I know Ben from the comedy club.”

For a moment everyone was confused about how they all somehow new each other. But Beverly perked her ears at one thing: “Spaghetti”. Affectionate. 

“And if you keep calling me Spaghetti, I’ll start calling you Richie Itchy.”

Richie bellowed one of his surprised laughs. “Never heard that one before,” he said. “You ever seen Pinky and the Brain? We can be Itchy and Spaghetti.”

The waiter brought him a shot as someone from behind the scenes started waving him over.

“That’s my queue,” Richie downed his drink and stood up. “Aren’t you guys gonna tell me to break a leg?”

“Break ‘em both,” Beverly said. Richie flashed her the middle finger and was gone. 

Eddie’s heart worked over time watching Richie head towards the stage. Oh God, if there was one thing worse than failing on stage it was watching someone else fail on stage. Especially someone you know. Eddie’s seen enough shows to know that it felt like dying except actually dying was probably a lot less painful than what those guys went through. He crossed his fingers underneath the table. 

Richie got on stage and squinted a little underneath the harsh spotlight, his glasses reflecting it. Everyone quieted down. 

“Hey everyone, I’m Richie. I’m Jewish,” he said pointing to his T-shirt that said “Don’t worry be Jewish” and had a smiley face wearing a kippah on it. He fiddled with the microphone so it was positioned properly for his height. 

“Have you guys heard that alcohol is a good way to calm your nerves?” Some people nodded. “Well, it isn’t. I just had a shot and it’s not working.”

People chuckled. Eddie wanted to tell him that he should’ve taken that shot at least half an hour ago.

“Even so, if I only had one year to live, I’d do it sober. Would feel like an eternity. Anyway, my dad’s a piece of shit… I don’t really have a joke there, I just wanted to say it.”

Beverly spit out her drink from laughing. 

“But speaking of dads.. I remember once back in school I was walking home from a friend’s house. And this dude drives up to me. I knew that he was someone’s father because he was driving a station wagon.”

Eddie ouched. _Burn_. 

“Anyway, so I’m not exactly sure what it was he didn’t like about me. My hair or glasses, to be honest there are many things to find offensive, take your pick. But he rolled down his window. I don’t remember the specifics ‘cause it happened very quickly but he spoke for about a minute and not a lot was said you know. It was mostly variations on the sentence ‘I’m gonna kick your fucking ass’ with a couple ‘faggot’s thrown in there for good measure, something about my nose too, I’m not really sure. But there was one thing this man said that really resonated with me. Drumroll please.”

The drummer gave him a beat. 

“‘I’m gonna shove a log up your ass’. Now first of all, I didn’t know I was gay at the time so he might have propelled my sexual awakening. But more importantly: a log. Not a stick, certainly not a twig, not even a goddamn branch but a log. Are you guys familiar with logs? Just in case you aren’t I made this drawing.”

Richie pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper from his pocket and straightened it to reveal what looked like the tree of a trunk drawn by a five year old. 

“A log takes three to four muscular men to move from place to place. I’ve taken picnics on a log with multiple pals. My lonely little butthole is nowhere near ready for log entry. If he tried to shove it up my ass he’d more or less just be hitting my entire ass with a log and I don’t think that’s what this guy wanted. I think he wanted to go for full log penetration. And he knows what he wants and that’s what I’ve always loved about him.”

Eddie choked on tears of laughter with the rest of the crowd. It was so fucking random. Richie disappeared behind the curtains for the rest of the show but Eddie couldn’t focus on other acts. …did he say he was gay?

After the show Beverly and Ben disappeared into the crowd to dance leaving Eddie to sit by himself. He wiped the sticky table with a paper napkin and watched one girl dance with two guys. It was quite graphic.

“What are you thinking about?” Asked Richie, sitting down next to him. 

Eddie just looked at Richie for a moment, wondering if he should tell the truth. “I’m thinking that probably a handful of people here have STD’s,” he admitted. “You were really good by the way.”

“Thanks. Your mom always says that too.”

“What? My mom?”

“I don’t have any STD’s, don’t worry.” Richie said as if it clarified anything. Eddie was utterly confused. 

“Oh never mind,” said Richie. They sat in silence for a while. 

“So your dad… is a piece of shit?”

“Well, I don’t really know him. But it’s probably a safe assumption,” smiled Richie. 

“ _My_ dad’s dead.” They looked at each other. “I’m sorry that was really awkward, I don’t know why I said that,” Eddie laughed. 

_Wow, this is going great._  

“I’m sorry,” Richie leaned in. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t really know him either,” Eddie assured. “So are you joining the comedy club then?” 

_That’s right, change the subject_.

“Nah, I just did it for fun.”

“You do so many things,” Eddie said. Math, drama, music and now comedy? It had once been Eddie’s ambition to be a Renaissance man - the Scientist and the Artist and everything at once but it ended up being a bite too big for him to chew. 

“Yeah well, I have a short attention span.”

“No, I meant that as a compliment,” said Eddie. 

“Oh,” Richie furrowed one eyebrow. “I’m not so sure it’s a good thing.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I have no sense of direction. One day it’s this, the other that. I don’t want to spread myself too thin and end up not being good at anything, you know?” He started shredding the napkin that Eddie wiped the table with. 

“Not necessarily,” Eddie said. “I think it’s the people who don’t want to do _anything_ that should really be worried.” He smiled. Richie had an introspective side.

Beverly and Ben emerged from the crowd sweaty and pink. 

“We’re calling it a night guys,” said Ben, helping Beverly into her coat. “You were great by the way Rich. Who knew you had more than mom jokes up your sleeve.”

“Oh was _that_ what it was?” Asked Eddie looking over at Richie. 

“Oh he dropped one on you already, did he?” Laughed Beverly. “Yeah, it’s a Richie Tozier trademark.”

“I thought you were going home,” said Richie trying to shoo them away.

“Actually, I think I’m going too,” Eddie said getting up. “I have an early start tomorrow.”

“It’s Sunday?” They all said in unison. 

Eddie shrugged, “I volunteer at the soup kitchen.” _And_ he missed last week. 

“Alright, I’ll walk you then,” said Richie standing up. 

Beverly looked over at Ben and smirked. _I told you so_. Eddie didn’t notice. He was busy sneaking glances at Richie. It was the first time they really stood next to each other. Eddie drew himself to his full height but Richie still towered over him by a good eight inches. It was so _attractive_ to Eddie. Always want what you can’t have and what not. 

The four of them walked into the chilly night. Richie blew out hot air watching the fumes as Eddie tightened his jacket around himself. He could still hear the muttered chatter of the bar behind its closed door. 

“Alright, well it was nice meeting you Eddie,” said Beverly. 

“You too,” he said hugging her and feeling the faint smell of flowers on her hair. He said goodbye to Ben too and then he and Richie were walking away.

Beverly held Ben’s hand and watched them for a moment. Two silhouettes - one tall, one small - outlined by the yellow street light and fading away. 

She smiled. “Is it just me or does Eddie look a lot like Michael J. Fox?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richie's thought about God helping those who help themselves is from a Stephen King novel (I believe it was "Misery") and I borrowed his log joke from this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFFteyrcOPc&t=183s 
> 
> Criticism and suggestions are strongly encouraged.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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